Unusual Funeral Poetry

Modern funeral poetry for truly modern funerals.

Unusual Funeral Poetry

Modern funeral poetry for modern funerals.

Absence

I visited the place where we last met.Nothing has changed, the gardens were well-tended,The fountains sprayed their usual steady jet;There was no sign that anything had endedAnd nothing to instruct me to forget.

The thoughtless birds that shook out of the trees,Singing an ecstasy I could not share,Played cunning in my thoughts. Surely in thesePleasures there could not be a pain to bearOr any discord shake the level breeze.

It was because the place was just the sameThat made your absence seem a savage force,For under all the gentleness there cameAn earthquake tremor: fountain, birds and grassWere shaken by my thinking of your name.

- Elizabeth Jennings

Reading #3

I wanted a perfect ending, so I sat down to write the book with the ending in place before there even was an ending. Now I’ve learned the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle and end. Like my life, this book has ambiguity. Like my life, this book is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, not knowing.

~ Gilda Radner, The Book of Life

This is real. This is very real.This is absolutely inescapable.And we are utterly unprepared.And we have nothing to offer but each other and our broken hearts.And that will be enough.

~ Rabbi Alan Lew

The Journey

One day you finally knewwhat you had to do, and began,though the voices around youkept shoutingtheir bad advice--though the whole housebegan to trembleand you felt the old tugat your ankles."Mend my life!"each voice cried.But you didn't stop.You knew what you had to do,though the wind priedwith its stiff fingersat the very foundations,though their melancholywas terrible.It was already lateenough, and a wild night,and the road full of fallenbranches and stones.But little by little,as you left their voices behind,the stars began to burnthrough the sheets of clouds,and there was a new voicewhich you slowlyrecognized as your own,that kept you companyas you strode deeper and deeperinto the world,determined to dothe only thing you could do--determined to savethe only life you could save.

~ Mary Oliver

Separation

Your absence has gone through me Like thread through a needle. Everything I do is stitched with its color.

~ W.S. Merwin

Beannacht

On the day whenThe weight deadensOn your shouldersAnd you stumble,May the clay danceTo balance you.

And when your eyesFreeze behindThe grey windowAnd the ghost of lossGets into you,May a flock of colours,Indigo, red, greenAnd azure blue,Come to awaken in youA meadow of delight.

When the canvas fraysIn the currach of thoughtAnd a stain of oceanBlackens beneath you,May there come across the watersA path of yellow moonlightTo bring you safely home.

May the nourishment of the earth be yours,May the clarity of light be yours,May the fluency of the ocean be yours,May the protection of the ancestors be yours.

And so may a slowWind work these wordsOf love around you,An invisible cloakTo mind your life.

~ John O'Donohue

Some people never say the wordsI love youIt's not their styleTo be so boldSome people never say those wordsI love youBut like a child they're longingTo be told

~ Paul Simon

When I Die I want Your Hands On My Eyes

When I die I want your hands on my eyes:I want the light and the wheat of your beloved handsto pass their freshness over me one more timeto feel the smoothness that changed my destiny.

I want you to live while I wait for you, asleep,I want for your ears to go on hearing the wind,for you to smell the sea that we loved togetherand for you to go on walking the sand where we walked.

I want for what I love to go on livingand as for you I loved you and sang you above everything,for that, go on flowering, flowery one,

so that you reach all that my love orders for you,so that my shadow passes through your hair, so that they know by this the reason for my song.

~ Pablo Neruda

“Goodbye... I love you. And I will go on loving. I will change as you will change. I wish you Christmas every time your eyes close. I pray that you will run with deer and soar with eagles, touching on the ground only long enough to find that man who will love you every bit as much as I do. And one you'll feel the same toward.

It is still early in the day for each of us despite the darkness up ahead. I know that there will be someone to lead you through the dark and someone you can lead. That it wasn't me is something that I can live with. I only hope that while you were adding to my life... I haven't interrupted anything within yours.”

~ From Coming Close to the Earth by Rod McKuen, 1977/8

Gratitude

What did you notice?

The dew-snail;the low-flying sparrow;the bat, on the wind, in the dark;big-chested geese, in the V of sleekest performance;the soft toad, patient in the hot sand;the sweet-hungry ants;the uproar of mice in the empty house;the tin music of the cricket’s body;the blouse of the goldenrod.

What did you hear?

The thrush greeting the morning;the little bluebirds in their hot box;the salty talk of the wren,then the deep cup of the hour of silence.

When did you admire?

The oaks, letting down their dark and hairy fruit;the carrot, rising in its elongated waist;the onion, sheet after sheet, curved inward to the pale green wand;at the end of summer the brassy dust, the almost liquid beauty of the flowers;then the ferns, scrawned black by the frost.

What astonished you?

The swallows making their dip and turn over the water.

What would you like to see again?

My dog: her energy and exuberance, her willingness,her language beyond all nimbleness of tongue,her recklessness, her loyalty, her sweetness,her strong legs, her curled black lip, her snap.

What was most tender?

Queen Anne’s lace, with its parsnip root;the everlasting in its bonnets of wool;the kinks and turns of the tupelo’s body;the tall, blank banks of sand;the clam, clamped down.

What was most wonderful?

The sea, and its wide shoulders;the sea and its triangles;the sea lying back on its long athlete’s spine.

What did you think was happening?

The green beast of the hummingbird;the eye of the pond;the wet face of the lily;the bright, puckered knee of the broken oak;the red tulip of the fox’s mouth;the up-swing, the down-pour, the frayed sleeve of the first snow—

so the gods shake us from our sleep.

~ Mary Oliver

‘The sun never says to the earth, “you owe me”.Look what happens with a love like that,It lights up the sky.’

The Laughing Heart

your life is your lifedon’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.be on the watch.there are ways out.there is a light somewhere.it may not be much light butit beats the darkness.be on the watch.the gods will offer you chances.know them.take them.you can’t beat death butyou can beat death in life, sometimes.and the more often you learn to do it,the more light there will be.your life is your life.know it while you have it.you are marvelousthe gods wait to delightin you.

~ Charles Bukowski

What I spent I had,What I saved I lost,What I gave I have.

~ Old German Motto

Recension Day

Unburn the boat, rebuild the bridge,Reconsecrate the sacrilege,Unspill the milk, decry the tears,Turn back the clock, relive the yearsReplace the smoke inside the fire,Unite fulfilment with desire,Undo the done, gainsay the said,Revitalise the buried dead,Revoke the penalty and the clause,Reconstitute unwritten laws,Repair the heart, untie the tongue,Change faithless old to hopeful young,Inure the body to diseaseAnd help me to forget you please.

~ Duncan Forbes

The Embrace

You weren’t well or really ill yet either;just a little tired, your handsomenesstinged by grief or anticipation, which broughtto your face a thoughtful, deepening grace.

I didn’t for a moment doubt you were dead.I knew that to be true still, even in the dream.You’d been out–at work maybe?–having a good day, almost energetic.

We seemed to be moving from some old housewhere we’d lived, boxes everywhere, thingsin disarray: that was the story of my dream,but even asleep I was shocked out of the narrative

by your face, the physical fact of your face:inches from mine, smooth-shaven, loving, alert.Why so difficult, remembering the actual lookof you? Without a photograph, without strain?

So when I saw your unguarded, reliable face,your unmistakable gaze opening all the warmthand clarity of you–warm brown tea–we heldeach other for the time the dream allowed.

Bless you. You came back, so I could see youonce more, plainly, so I could rest against youwithout thinking this happiness lessened anything,without thinking you were alive again.

~ Mark Doty

After the Funeral

We opened closets and bureau drawersand packed away, in boxes, dresses and shoes, the silk underthings still wrapped in tissue. We sorted through cedar chests. We gathered and set aside the keepsakes and the good silver and brought up from the coal cellarjars of tomato sauce, peppers, jellied fruit.We dismantled, we took down from the walls, we bundled and carted off and swept clean. Goodbye, goodbye, we said, closingthe door behind us, going our separate ways from the house we had emptied,and which, in the coming days, we would fill again and empty and try to fill again.

~ Peter Everwine

Bronzed

That dusty bubble gum, once ubiquitous as starlings, is no more, my love. Whistling dinosaurs now populate only animation studios, the furious actions of angels causing their breasts to flop out in mannerist frescos flake away as sleet holds us in its teeth. And the bus-station's old urinals go under the grindstone and the youthful spelunkers graduate into the wrinkle-causing sun. The sea seemingly a constant to the naked eye is one long goodbye, perpetually the tide recedes, beaches dotted with debris. Unto each is given a finite number of addresses, ditties to dart the heart to its moments of sorrow and swoon. The sword's hilt glints, the daffodilsbow down, all is temporary as a perfect haircut, a kitten in the lap, yet sitting here with you, my darling, waiting for a tuna melt and side of slaw seems all eternity I'll ever need and all eternity needs of me.

~ Dean Young

It Was Like This: You Were Happy

It was like this:you were happy, then you were sad,then happy again, then not.

It went on.You were innocent or you were guilty.Actions were taken, or not.

At times you spoke, at other times you were silent.Mostly, it seems you were silent—what could you say?

Now it is almost over.

Like a lover, your life bends down and kisses your life.

It does this not in forgiveness—between you, there is nothing to forgive—but with the simple nod of a baker at the momenthe sees the bread is finished with transformation.

Eating, too, is a thing now only for others.

It doesn’t matter what they will make of youor your days: they will be wrong,they will miss the wrong woman, miss the wrong man,all the stories they tell will be tales of their own invention.

Your story was this: you were happy, then you were sad,you slept, you awakened.Sometimes you ate roasted chestnuts, sometimes persimmons.

~ Jane Hirshfield

Continuum

“beautiful things fill every vacancy”

for C. D. Wright

filaments of her gift persistent mysteries palpable consciousness a world of naming of ablutions in time fighter instinct action, the pressing in, closing in heart thrums for a powerful image dazzling light: redemption! to reassess language, its tactility emotion, lyric, oblique irony twists, shifts by pulse & ear, resilient her consummate body poetics echo into night it hits us what is now absent from every bouquet cut like flowers before their time

~ Anne Waldman

Ever

Never, never, never, never, never.—King Lear

Even now I can’t grasp “nothing” or “never.”They’re unholdable, unglobable, no map to nothing.Never? Never ever again to see you?An error, I aver. You’re never nothing,because nothing’s not a thing.I know death is absolute, forever,the guillotine—gutting—never to which we never say goodbye.But even as I think “forever” it goes “ever”and “ever” and “ever.” Ever after.I’m a thing that keeps on thinking. So I never see youis not a thing or think my mouth can ever. Aver:You’re not “nothing.” But neither are you something.Will I ever really get never?You’re gone. Nothing, never—ever.

~ Meghan O'Rourke

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